Mon amour, let me tell you about your father, because I know you would love him as I did. Robert was a good man in all the ways that mattered. Kind. Thoughtful. He loved me and I loved him, despite your grandmother. Or maybe in spite of her. He wanted to marry me, take me away from here, but Fate, as cruel as Odette, intervened. Losing him devastated me, but I had you growing in my belly. You gave me hope, gave me a reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other. No matter what your grandmother tells you, I never wanted to leave you. I wasn’t given a choice. She saw to that.
Sheridan smoothed the crinkled corners of the letter before putting it aside and pulling another one from the stack. She checked the date. It was written just after she’d seen her mother for the first time when she was six.
Please don’t be angry with me, ma chère fille. I tried to see you today, boldly knocking upon the door of the home that was no longer mine, because I was not content to stand across the street and catch a glimpse of you. I wanted so desperately to hold you. To speak with you, but my heart was broken once again. Odette denied my simple wish. I fear now that I may have gotten you in trouble and I cannot bear the thought of Odette treating you badly simply because I ache to see you. Odette will not forgive me for my sins, but I hope that you can. I will not try to talk to you again, just know that I love you more and more each day.
Struggling to breathe, Sheridan put the letter down and wiped the tears from her eyes at the heartbreak her mother had felt being thrown out of her home, being denied seeing her own daughter. Her anger toward Odette and Aunt Estelle turned intoa burning rage. She needed to break ties with them altogether because she never wanted to see them again.
She picked up the next letter.
Madam Caron wishes to start a new parlor house out West, in a little town called Serenity. It’s in New Mexico, a place I have never been but have been told is beautiful. She has asked me to help her set it up since I am the one with a head for numbers. I am sorry, Cherie, but I must go because I am afraid I will not be able to control myself any longer and stay away from you. The temptation is too strong, but I know if I try, the heartache will belong to both of us and the last thing I ever want is to see you sad or hurt.
A knock on the door startled her. She swiped the tears from her eyes. “Yes. Come in.”
The door edged open and Mrs. Gallagher brought in a tray, the cheerful ceramic teapot reflecting the light of the late afternoon sun coming in through the open draperies. “I thought you’d like a nice cup of tea, lass. Mr. Langston told me he brought your mother’s trunk down from the attic earlier today.” She placed the tray on a small, upholstered hassock then glanced at all the letters scattered on the floor.
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Gallagher.”
“You’ve been crying,” the older woman stated rather bluntly.
“I have.” Sheridan sighed. “I know, it’s silly of me to be so torn apart by simple words on a page.”
“Not silly at all.” Mrs. Gallagher smiled at her, though it seemed to be forced, and her eyes took on a watery glow.
Sheridan smoothed her hand over the envelopes on the floor. “She saved them. All the letters she wrote to me, like she knew someday I’d read them and come to know her.”
“And are ye coming to know her?”
Sheridan nodded, unable to speak, overwhelmed by emotions so powerful, they threatened to break her.
“I’ll leave you to it then. Just call me if you need me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She waited until Mrs. Gallagher left the room, poured herself a cup of tea, added milk and sugar then pulled another letter from the peppermint tin.
Mon chéri, you would love this little town. The people here, most of them anyway, are kind and gentle and the new house Madam has started is doing well. There is a need for female companionship here. Cowboys are a curious breed. Proud. Polite. Living by a code only they know and understand. I haven’t been ‘ma’am’d’ so much in my life. I will admit that their behavior amuses me. It doesn’t make me miss you any less though. How I long to see you, to talk to you, my darling girl.
Sheridan smiled, imagining what it had been like for Josie arriving in Serenity. The move here must have been good for her mother. Josie seemed happy, or at least as happy as she could be and that made Sheridan happy, too.
She tossed the letter aside, adding it to the growing pile on the floor and picked up another one. Taking it from the envelope, she unfolded it and read:
Happy birthday, my darling girl. You’re eighteen now, full of life and hopes and dreams. I saw you graduate from Bouchard’s because I could not stay away from you on such a special day. I heard you play the piano and sing during the ceremony. It brought tears to my eyes. You play and sing so beautifully. I think you may have gotten that talent from me, at least the piano part, since I can’t carry a tunein a bucket. I heard you would be staying at the school to teach. I am so proud of you, my beautiful angel.
Unfortunately, your grandmother saw me as well. She hasn’t grown softer with age and still regards me as a fallen woman. Estelle is no better. For a sister, actually, for a human being, she seems to not have very much compassion. They threatened me, made me feel as if I was unworthy of you, said things no one should ever say to another person. They may be right, mon coeur. As much as it hurts me, and as much as I want you with me, I cannot, in all good conscience, ask you to join me here in Serenity, even though you are of an age to make your own decisions. You have a bright future ahead of you, mon chéri. Grasp it with both hands and know that I love you with all my heart and will always choose the best for you.
Josie had been proud of her. Warmth filled her even as the contempt for Odette and Estelle continued to grow. Imagine Josie’s own mother threatening her. And to follow through on that threat. She remembered, quite clearly, the two burly policemen escorting Josie from the graduation ceremony. She remembered Josie not making a sound, but walking between those two men calmly, her head held high, and her esteem for the woman who had given up so much for her grew. Not only had Josie been a good woman, but she’d also been a lady as well.
“I am so sorry. I wish I had known it was you all those years ago.” She spoke aloud to the letter in her hand, even as teardrops stained the paper. “I would have loved to have spoken to you. Been offered the opportunity to know who you were.”
Sheridan thought briefly about putting the letters away, saving the rest for another day, another time, because reading about her mother’s life was painful. But she knew if she stopped now, she might not have the heart to try again. She wiped hereyes and tried to find the courage her mother had. She reached into the tin but didn’t touch an envelope. Instead, she found a folded piece of paper. It began:My dearest Sherry, I have met the most wonderful man. He reminds me very much of your father. And he loves me, despite the fact that I live here, in a parlor house.
Startled, Sheridan read the words again. Josie found love? After all those years? Joy filled her heart. She turned the page over, but the letter was unfinished, no mention of the man’s name, no mention of anything. She flipped the page over again and looked for a date, but there wasn’t one scrawled across the top of the page like all the others. She put the paper down and grabbed the next letter and the next, but there was nothing further about the man her mother had fallen in love with.
I’m afraid I have some distressing news, ma petite. Madam Sylvie has passed. You would have liked her. She was a tough, pragmatic woman, but she always treated me well. I think, in her own way, she loved me like a mother should love their child. The house? It’s mine now. She left it to me in her will. I have such plans, Sherry. I hope you are happy, my love.
Sheridan continued reading the letters until she came upon the last one—the first one she had touched hours ago. Some had been gossipy, going on about the people in town. Those made her laugh. Some were filled with the charitable deeds Josie had done for people, such as Mr. Langston. Some were filled with heartbreak at what Josie had missed not being in her life, and those made her cry harder. She had missed the opportunity to know such a kind and fearless woman, too. What Odette had done was unforgiveable.
She looked at the envelopes scattered on the floor and slowly put them back in the tins. She felt, after reading everything, she knew a little more about Josie, about the life she had lived without her. It wasn’t a bad life, just not the one she was sure Josie would have chosen.
She rose to her feet awkwardly after sitting so still for so long and stretched. She looked around the room, the sun’s fading rays coming through the French doors, and caught sight of the desk in the corner. She could picture Josie sitting there, writing the letters she would never send, pouring out her heart and soul.
